Potter Ping Pong II: Bad Romance
by PigeonChicks
Summary: Inspector McGonnagal reveals the true identity of the monster that has been terrorizing Hogwarts. Meanwhile, Ron is miffed that his friends haven't been spending enough time with him lately! Harumph!
1. Prologue

Hello there! Blonde one and Tomato Face have returned from the abyss for another round of Potter Ping Pong! What's that you say? You quite possibly haven't heard of it? That's okay! Let us explain the rules. And for those of you who _are_ familiar, there will be some exciting changes for version 2.0!

As PigeonChicks, we enjoy a life of leisurely cooperative writing with each other, but that can sometimes get rather dull. So we decided to make a game where we both try to ruin the very story we're trying to write before the other can. It's quite magical, really. Our last version was the thrilling tale of Harry Potter dating an owl. So how can we top ourselves for this version?

Superheroes, of course! Have you _seen_ movies lately? It's all about superheroes. And what about Harry Potter isn't super? So it's time for Harry and his friends to join the ranks of the supers while pursuing secret romance in the annals of Potter Pong 2: Bad Romance.

The rules:

To start off, we have agreed on a very general plot with lots of room for flexibility. In addition to this, we have created sixteen cards and drawn six each so that we can't guess who has what. The cards are:

Death

Stupid backstory

Amnesia

Character is not actually dead (can be used to counteract death card)

Long-lost close relative or lover is discovered

Helper (gets a henchman, butler, or sidekick)

New super power discovered (either for new superhero or existing powered being gets a new power) (x2)

Alliance (unlimited, either a partnership or a team between superheroes only or super villains only)

Temporary loss of powers

Change of heart (character changes sides) (x2)

Secret identity revealed

Temporary insanity/mind control

Rebrand (character changes image/name)

Evil clone (with one obvious difference)

Keeping our cards a secret, we will write the story in turns. During an author's turn, they have the opportunity to play ONE of their cards, which gives them a chance to change or interfere with the plot. An author cannot undo a plot point introduced by a previously played card unless their card expressly allows them to do so (ie. Using 'Character is not actually dead' to counter a 'death' card.) An author does not have to play a card unless they choose, but if they do not play a card they must go along with the direction of the plot established in previous chapters. Twelve characters have been pre-determined as possessing super powers, although what those powers are have not been decided. If an author introduces the character during their turn, they have the right to establish the power as whatever they want.

There is no set length for the story, and it can take a lot of twists and turns along the way. Since Blonde One started last time, Tomato Face will set things in motion.

As always, there will be no winner.

Let the game begin!


	2. Chapter 1: Poker Face

**Chapter One: Poker Face**

"Where _were_ you last night, Harry?" Ron glanced up from his plate of dry toast on the Great Hall breakfast table at his best friend in an uncomfortable mix of irritation and the beginnings of concern. "Hermione and I waited for you in the library for _hours_. It wasn't," he lowered his voice and looked about nervously to make sure no one was eavesdropping, "it wasn't the headaches, was it?"

Harry Potter stood before Ron Weasley looking quite the worse for wear. Almost half an hour late to breakfast, it was clear from his cowlick hair, rumpled clothing, and half-tucked shirt that he had slept the night in his clothes and arrived to the Great Hall immediately after exiting his bed. The dark circles under his eyes and bleary half-attention spoke to another clear problem.

"Sorry, Ron," Harry yawned, clumsily attempting to swing his legs over the bench and hitting it a few times before finally settling in next to the ginger-haired boy. "They're keeping me up at odd hours and I can barely stay awake during the day."

Ron's expression deepened to one of concern as he realized Harry hadn't stood them up, and said Potter fumbled some bacon and eggs to his plate (only dropping them twice.)

"Hermione and I have been scouring the library and, while we haven't found anything conclusive, we think we might have an idea of what's troubling you at night." Ron lowered his voice further and gave Harry a meaningful look.

A quick look of panic flashed over Harry's face before it was replaced by a practiced look of calm interest, "Oh?"

"Yes! We think it might have something to do with your scar and the link you have with…you know." He gestured towards Harry's scar by tilting his head to the side a few times.

"Oh." Harry seemed to relax as he took a swig of some milk and set about obliterating his breakfast. "Yes, that's probably it."

"Goddammit!" A powerful, angry voice boomed throughout the Great Hall.

All eyes turned to the staff table at the head of the room, where an angry Dumbledore had leapt to his feet in a rage. Clenched in his shaking hands was a now-ratty newspaper, the Hogwarts Herald, which was a student-run endeavor headed by Luna Lovegood. A hush settled over the room as Dumbledore very visibly and quite publicly lost his cool.

"Who is responsible for this?" He shouted.

Harry cautiously leaned over to Ron, "What's he on about, then?" He whispered.

Ron shoved his copy of the newspaper over to Harry, his terrified eyes never leaving Dumbledore's tirade, "Have a look for yourself."

Harry looked down at the front page.

"Maybe I should repeat myself: Who. Is. Responsible. For. This?" The Headmaster punctuated his repetition by slapping the rolled up paper on the polished wooden surface that his own breakfast currently occupied.

The slightly blurry and dark photograph showed a black and white shot of a young man dressed in a tight costume accented with lightning bolts. His cape flapped in an unfelt breeze as he crouched in the corner of the frame, facing off against a gigantic monster.

"I understand that Mr. Manimal, as you have dubbed him, is generally terrorizing the school and surrounding Hogsmeade Village, and I sympathize that we, the school authorities, have as of yet been unsuccessful in apprehending this villain. However, I wish to caution you that in this case, as the old adage goes, the enemy of your enemy is not your friend." The students, ill at ease since a giant, hairy humanoid creature had been lurking about and causing mayhem, silently listened to Dumbledore.

The young man in the photo looked back and forth between Mr. Manimal, who was silently roaring as he pounded his chest, and whoever was taking the photograph. He was bent over, paused, caught between keeping a wary eye on an adversary who clearly meant to him harm, and a freelance photographer (likely Luna) who threatened to reveal him to a frightened public.

"But, sir, The Bolt saved my sister last week Tuesday." A cautious Hufflepuff timidly raised his hand, already fearing a stern rebuke.

Dumbledore paused for a moment, and calmed himself. He'd been on edge since bizarre happenings had started to pop up about the castle, but as someone who had successfully been in a position of leadership for over a century, he knew that shouting would be counterproductive.

He sighed.

"I realize that, up until now this person who you have collectively named 'The Bolt' has been protecting the students of Hogwarts and the residents of Hogsmeade from harm. That in and of itself is nothing to warrant fear or mistrust. But you must understand," he gazed at them with brevity over his half moon spectacles, "that we don't know what these beings are or where they came from. They don't fall under any category or classification of magical creature or being, nor can we find any evidence that they haven't just popped into existence from nowhere."

Dumbledore held the newspaper up, displaying the front-page photograph to the assembled students. He pointed to The Bolt's face, which was obscured by a thin, black mask.

"If The Bolt were on our side and our ally, then why would he feel the need to mask himself and carry out vigilante justice? If he has no other interests, why can't he freely work with us to help subdue those who mean us ill?" He shook his head sadly, "It is regrettable, but without some very forthright information we have no assurance that The Bolt isn't just part of another faction of these beings that only seems to have our best interests at heart for the present moment. We can't be certain he means us no harm, and I'm not willing to risk the safety of you, who have been left in my charge by your parents and society at large, on what is little more than an uneducated assumption."

Harry looked at the messy black hair, the thin, pale face, and the faint lightning bolt scar on the forehead. The thin, black mask made it impossible to identify the young man in the photograph. If it weren't for the fact that Harry knew that he was, without a doubt, the person in the picture, he could very well have been looking at a complete stranger. He found it bizarre, though. Like looking in a mirror that reflected someone else's face.

"As such, I'm offering a reward of one hundred and fifty house points to anyone who has pertinent information on either The Bolt or Mr. Manimal." A murmur of surprise rippled through the room. "Otherwise, please keep an eye out for each other, stay safe, and try not to go out alone after dark. That is all."

Dumbledore sat back down and resumed picking at his breakfast as the room erupted into nervous chatter. Ron instantly turned to Harry.

"Blimey! Can you believe it?" His eyes were wide and shining with surprise. "Dumbledore's really got it out for The Bolt!"

"I suppose so." Harry muttered, pushing his egg back and forth with a fork.

It stung a little to hear Dumbledore say those things about him, even if the Headmaster didn't know it was him. You see, for the past month or so, Harry Potter had started to lead a double life. He hadn't meant for it to happen that way as such, and it had been nothing but trouble. With his public fame as the Boy Who Lived, he had always found himself wishing that he could have had a quieter notoriety for supposedly destroying Voldemort. Now that he was experiencing living a double life, though, he was starting to believe it was a mistake. He felt alienated from his friends and ordinary people, he was exhausted and distracted all day after being kept up by adrenaline-pumping hijinks perpetrated by some kind of evil super beings at night, and worst of all he had no free time to himself anymore. He was exhausted and everything felt like a chore, even things he usually enjoyed. He felt like he was slowly losing himself to his alter ego, The Bolt, as the urge to protect Hogwarts from evildoers became stronger and stronger.

Ron stared in concern at his friend, who had been acting strangely ever since he became stricken with headaches from about a month ago. Harry had refused to see Madame Pomfrey at the infirmary, and had become more reclusive after that. He and Hermione had quietly resolved to scour the library for any information on Harry's condition, but hadn't found anything yet. Watching his friend was almost too painful.

"Well, I'm going to head off to class, then," Ron stood abruptly, and then scurried away before Harry could say anything in reply.

Harry shook his head sadly, and went back to finishing up his breakfast. He suspected Ron and Hermione were meeting up at the library during most of their free time to try to understand what was ailing their friend. If only they knew…

* * *

Harry walked through the halls back to his room to fetch supplies for the days' classes. He absently tucked his hands in his pockets and stared blankly at the world around him, which passed in a blur of gray cobblestone. Reaching the top of a staircase, he was gradually jarred out of his numb state of existence by a small, whimpering sound. As he became aware of it and the unusual nature of the sound, he started to realize it was not something one often heard in the hallowed halls of the castle. So his gait slowed, and he stopped, looking around the deserted corridors to gauge where the sound was coming from. Turning away from the Gryffindor house, he walked further down an unfamiliar hallway until he reached an adjoining one to his left. The hallway was dark, but the whimpering sound was unmistakable. It was the sound of suffering.

Harry, his senses more alert now, pressed his back against the wall just shy of the dark hallway. Someone was in there, but he had no way of knowing if it was some poor soul, or a sinister trap. He looked down at his clothes and sighed, tearing his shirt open to reveal spandex underneath.

"This looks like a job for The Bolt." He whispered to himself, and stripped down to his red and gold lightning-themed costume.

Whispering a quiet incantation, he bewitched his discarded clothes to look like a non-descript chair and hid his wand underneath the illusion. If he used magic, someone might be able to figure out who he was. And if they happened to photograph his wand, then all it would take was a glance from Ollivander to ruin his secret identity. Pulling his mask over his face, he jumped into the dark hallway and took a few cautious steps inside.

"Is everything alright in there?" He called out in a heavy, gravelly voice.

He froze as he took in a huddled figure farther away, leaning against the wall. What gave him pause, though, were the orbs of light seemingly vomiting from the person's body. Although small and dim, circle after circle of a glowing, pulsing energy seeped through the figure's skin, arced gently through the air, and splashed into the ground like a giant spherical drop of water before vanishing completely.

"Please stop," the voice moaned, "please. What's happening to me?"

"Neville…" Harry breathed, before slipping back into his deeper voice and saying much more audibly, "Neville Longbottom."

The figured jerked to look up at him, fear in his eyes, as The Bolt strode to approach him.

"No, please…" Neville tried to scramble to his feet, but collapsed again as a deluge of orbs poured from his body.

They were small and weak, although as the odd one brushed against Harry, it delivered an uncomfortable electric shock.

"Please, The Bolt, I don't want any trouble. If I could stop this I would. Believe me I would. I just don't understand what's happening to me, and I can't-"

"Shhh, it's okay," The Bolt knelt down next to him, "I understand."

Neville's eyes went wide and more orbs cascaded out of him, "Y-you do?"

It was then that Harry Potter took a large, uncalculated risk and pulled the mask off of his face.

"Yes, Neville, I do," he repeated in his normal speaking voice.

"My god." There was a pop as a giant orb slipped out of Neville's body and slammed into the floor behind Neville with a crackle. Then the room was bathed in darkness. "You're-"

"Yes, I know how unbelievable it is," Harry found it difficult to see Neville now in the dark, "can you stand? Are you alright?"

"I-I'm okay, I think." Neville stammered and shakily regained his footing, helped by Harry.

After making sure the coast was clear, Harry and Neville were found minutes later heading for the lake in their regular attire. Although no one seemed to be there, Harry insisted on finding a more private location.

* * *

"Harry, I still don't understand," Neville finally broke the uncomfortable silence he'd been maintaining, "why are we here?"

Harry looked back at him and smiled, "You'll see."

He made sure the coast was clear, and ducked into the forest. Neville scrambled to keep up with the nimble Potter as Harry jogged up to a nearby tree with an odd knot dead centre. Not sure he understood, Neville continued to watch as Harry pressed the knot, and suddenly a small trap door opened up at the base of the tree.

"What-"

"Just go down in here." Harry winked.

Neville hesitated for a moment, remembering Dumbledore's warning about The Bolt. But when he looked at Harry's smiling face, he saw someone he knew and trusted. Strange things had been happening to him, and Neville didn't know who he should or even could turn to. As he smiled back with a nod and stepped into the dark hole, he resolved himself to trusting Harry Potter.

Until his feet slid out from under him and he started sliding down through the darkness at an alarming rate.

His stomach leaping to his throat and his heart racing as he seemed to be endlessly sliding down in pitch darkness, Neville couldn't even think to reach for his wand to slow or reverse his descent. He screamed in a panic. What was happening? Was this some kind of sick grotto where The Bolt sent people to die? Was he in league with Mr. Manimal? How could he have been so foolish! He was just so vulnerable.

Neville's consciousness lurched but he briefly continued screaming as he suddenly landed on a large inflated pad that broke his fall from the dark slide of death he'd been forced to ride on. Hearing Harry's indistinct screams of warning, Neville had the presence of mind to scramble out of the way before Harry crashed into the pad moments after him. Harry stood up and brushed himself off, laughing.

"I love that! Never get tired of it," he bounced off the jump pad and offered his hand to help Neville to his feet.

Finally re-convinced that Harry wasn't trying to kill him, Neville stood up and looked around in awe. He was in a dimly-lit cavern that contained all manner of magical equipment. There were large crystal orbs that showed different areas of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, self-writing quills that were writing furiously in code, cauldrons with bubbling potions, and countless things Neville couldn't even begin to guess at.

"Where am I? What is all this?" He managed to get out.

"We're in my secret lair under the lake." Harry explained.

"What?" Neville looked at him as if he'd gone mad.

"I should probably clarify things a bit more," Harry seemed pensive for a moment.

"Maybe a month or so ago I started having terrible headaches. I don't remember the specific date, but I do recall that it was three days before the first sighting of Mr. Manimal. Madame Pomfrey couldn't understand it and her treatments never worked, so I ended up getting frustrated, lied and told her that some potion she'd made for me had done the trick, and figured I'd just deal with the headaches on my own. Ron and Hermione have been beside themselves over it." He shook his head sadly.

"I noticed you'd been looking kind of down and out lately…" Neville felt guilty for not realizing his friend had been suffering.

"But the strange thing," Harry continued, "is that the headaches kind of started to get better. Not in the sense that they went away, but the purpose of the headaches became clearer. I started to…to _see _things."

"What kinds of things?" Neville looked in concern around him.

"Sort of mental images. As the images became clearer in my mind and I understood how to interpret them, it stopped hurting. They were like muses – I got these flashes of inspiration. They started out as small things, like inventing little magical trinkets or seeing the path I could walk down a hallway with perfect angles to prevent my bumping into anyone while maximizing the speed at which I could reach my destination. Then it started to become bigger things."

"Like this?"

"Yes. As Mr. Manimal's attacks increased it's like something inside me awoke – something righteous. Hogwarts and the people inside it are important to me, and it's something I think is worth protecting. Dumbledore and the staff are doing their best, but they've never seen anything like Mr. Manimal before, and haven't been very effective. I suddenly got the inspiration to build this place and outfit it with the latest magical equipment to help me track down and defeat Mr. Manimal. My parents had left me a small fortune, and I realized that this was a good use for it. So I've been using my flashes of inspiration and money to build all of this and protect the castle."

"Harry, that's…" Neville paused, unsure of how to be tactful, "looking at some of these inventions, I've just never seen you demonstrate the intelligence or creativity to make these things. Or even this underground lair."

Harry smiled, "You're right. Only Hermione would be able to come up with something this awesome. Or that's what I thought. But now that I have this gift, I need to use it. So I decided to disguise myself and use my powers for good. I called myself "The Bolt" after my freakish inspiration, which comes like a bolt out of the blue."

Neville tried not to make a face at the terrible name, "Are you sure it has nothing to do with your scar?" He pointed.

"What?" Harry looked surprised. "No, that would be stupid and a clear tie to my secret identity. By making a metaphorical connection to my powers, it can be meaningful to me, but leave no clue as to who I really am. As far as Dumbledore's concerned, I'm a crime-fighting ghost of the night."

"Oookay…" Neville trailed off, then decided to get to the heart of things. "I just want to thank you, though. I have no idea what's been happening to me, but it sounds like maybe we might have something in common?"

"How so?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"I started having problems around the same time as you. My body would start to feel strange and uncomfortable all over. I'd itch terribly, and then as time went on it intensified to the point I felt like I was on fire. Once I felt so hot I thought I would burn to a crisp, but instead there small orbs started pouring out of me. I've been lucky so far that no one has seen me have an attack, although I think I may have shocked an unlucky owl who was passing by overhead one day in the forest. When you found me today was the worst attack I'd ever had." Neville looked at the ground with a dark expression on his face. "If I keep this up, I'll be discovered."

"What are those orbs?" Harry wasn't sure if it was a sensitive topic or not.

"As far as I can tell, they're electromagnetic orbs of some kind, but I have no idea how I'm making them! Do you think someone hexed me?" Neville grabbed Harry's arms, desperate for help.

Harry shook his head, "If it happened around the same time as my headaches, I don't think it's a coincidence. I think there may be others like us, too. This feels like something beyond magic – something important. Until we can discover the cause, you're going to have to learn to control your powers like I have learned to control mine."

"W-what?" Neville whimpered. He'd been hoping Harry could just make it go away.

"I don't know why this chose us, but it did, and we need to make the best of it. We have a duty to use what we have to protect those around us. Neville Longbottom, will you join me in my quest to protect Hogwarts and Hogsmeade?" Harry extended his hand, hoping that he looked cool and awesome.

"I- s-sure?" Neville took it, figuring it would help him out more than just sitting around in terror like he'd been doing the past month.

"Excellent. I'll be your mentor and guide you through coming into your own powers." Harry smiled. "But first you need to think of a name."

"W-what?"

"You know, like how I'm The Bolt." Harry supplied.

"Oh…but I'm not very good at thinking of names." Neville wrung his hands nervously. "Can't I just be me?"

"No." Harry's face darkened. "Even though the students of Hogwarts support us, the authorities are not so keen to allow us to interfere in what they see as their work. If they knew who we were, they would try to stop us at the very least, and at worst they would imprison and persecute us. I think it's safest for us all if we keep our identities secret."

"I suppose, but how do you think of a name." Neville was extremely uncomfortable being put on the spot.

"Well, I picked something to do with my powers. What about yours? You said they were electromagnetic orbs?" Harry tried to prompt his new pupil.

"Yes…Oh! I know. I'll be Kid EMO, after my powers." Neville seemed so pleased with his name that Harry simply smiled and nodded.

"It sounds like a great name." He clapped Neville on the shoulder.

"Thanks, Harry." Neville was radiating relief to have found a friendly ally, even if he wasn't entirely sure at the moment what he was getting himself into.

"Hey, Neville, I have to go visit with someone quickly. But I have some fabric and supplies in that desk next to the smoke bomb potion cauldron. Why don't you make yourself a temporary disguise until we can come up with a proper uniform for you." Harry suggested.

Neville enthusiastically agreed, and raced off to get started on his new identity as Harry slunk off into the darkness, putting his mask back on. Neville was so distracted that he didn't even think to wonder who Harry would be going to see dressed as The Bolt…

* * *

Professor McGonagal sat in the old arm chair in her quarters reading a musty book and sipping from a warm cup of chamomile tea. She cherished the rare moments she could relax and unwind before bed, which had become rarer and rarer. Although Dumbledore was in charge of Hogwarts, he had appointed her in a secret staff meeting head of investigating the recent odd events that had been cropping up around the grounds.

While she had done her best to track down and keep Mr. Manimal at bay, she had found it difficult to keep up with that and all of her teaching duties at the same time. She'd been very upset at only being able to maintain a status quo, and felt like she wasn't gaining ground. Until recently when she'd started to receive…a little extra help.

She felt a chill and wrapped her arms around her body, turning to look at the window she could have sworn she'd left closed. There, outlined in the rectangular frame of the opened window, stood The Bolt.

"Good evening, Professor." He greeted her in a low gravelly voice.

Every time she saw him, she tried in vain to guess who he could be. Was he just a strange costumed angel of justice? Or someone she knew in her daily life who had donned the mantle of truth when he saw the need? But his unfamiliar face always made this an impossible task.

"Ah, The Bolt. Breaking and entering now, I see?" She said drily, raising an eyebrow.

"I have information for you," he hardly missed a beat.

"And what would that be?" Although she had a feeling he was on her side, she was well aware that, as Dumbledore had warned, he might only be a temporary ally. Still, unlike the Headmaster, she was willing to entertain the notion of working together. Even if it turned out not to be for very long. It had been difficult keeping this a secret from him, but she sincerely believed Dumbledore was being shortsighted.

"I've been tracking Mr. Manimal's attacks." His hoarse voice was very grating. "I think a pattern is starting to emerge, I just need a little more time to figure out what it is."

"Yes, well, I'm not sure how I feel about that," The professor was starting to get irate as her job pressure was suddenly thrust to the front of her mind, reversing any semblance of relaxation she had managed to experience, "the more attacks there are, the more likely someone will die."

"I don't want that to happen, either, but until I can predict where and when, we're only just reacting. We need to trap him." The bolt was adamant.

"So what do you want?" She asked flatly.

"Wait a few days. I'll have the answer by then. And I may have an ally, too."

She found that cryptic, "Ally? What do you-"

Professor McGonagal shielded her face as a sudden gust of frigid air blew into the room and whipped her loose hair into her eyes. When she cleared her vision, she saw that The Bolt had vanished in his trademark style.

"Oh, you little troll monkey." She muttered to herself.

She knew she would be lying awake the better part of the rest of her evening, wondering whether she was taking a risk that would pay off, or leave her with blood on her hands. She could only pray her faith in The Bolt was not misplaced.

* * *

Blonde One: Well, here we are for round two.

Tomato Face: Indeed!

Blonde One: I have to say, I'm looking forward to ruining _your_ story for a change.

Tomato Face: Pfft! Mine started out boring. Have at 'er.

Blonde One: I was thinking we could add a little more spice. Perhaps a…romance?

Tomato Face: Blech. You mean boy's love, don't you?

Blonde One: Tee hee! You know it.

Tomato Face: I wonder if I can out-BL you?

Blonde One: I accept your challenge.

Tomato Face: I think that's a challenge I'll lose. So did you want to play any cards? Or just keep on developing the story that's going on so far?

Blonde One: Why yes, I believe I do.

Tomato Face: Oh, an early play. Intriguing.

Blonde One: I play: alliance. Meaning I can ally superheroes or supervillains.

Tomato Face: …But we only introduced two heroes, who are already allies and one villain, who is a hairy manimal.

Blonde One: That's all we've introduced…for now!

Tomato Face: *narrows eyes* We shall see.

Will Blonde One throw her card away for the sake of posturing? Will Tomato Face actually provide a rebuttal in time? Stay tuned to find out!


	3. Chapter 2: Hair

**Chapter 2: Hair**

"Harry-"

"Call me The Bolt when we're in costume Kid EMO." Harry gruffly rebuked his sidekick.

"Sorry. The Bolt, are you sure that Mr. Manimal is going to make an appearance tonight?" Neville glanced from side to side nervously as he spoke. He was wearing a tight black unitard with blocky yellow letters sewn across his chest, which spelled out the word E-M-O. Neville had cut out eyeholes in a yellow bandana which he now wore tied around his head to protect his real identity.

To complete the look he wore an old pair of black hiking boots and some black rubber gloves, which looked like they were supposed to be used for gardening. Harry felt a little embarrassed to be standing next to him, but he told himself that it wasn't a bad costume considering the short notice.

"Yes I'm sure." Harry said grimly. He was dressed as The Bolt and was deepening his voice whenever he spoke despite that fact that there was no one else around. You could never be too careful.

"Mr. Manimal has been sighted nearly every night this month, and even on nights when no one reported seeing it there were still strange incidents, which I have identified as matching Mr. Manimal's pattern."

Neville gave a little shudder at this news and glanced around at the shadows like he expected Mr. Manimal to leap out at any second. The pair were currently crouched behind an inconspicuous hedge which Harry had identified as an ideal hiding place for their stakeout of Mildred's Taxidermy and Stuffed Animal Shop, one of the oldest and least popular shops in Hogsmeade Village. Harry peered through the branches of the hedge at the old wooden building and shook his head at the creepy sign hanging in the window, which explained the great deal the shop offered on stuffing beloved deceased pets. Really, he wasn't sure how the shop managed to stay in business.

The hour was late and the streets of the sleepy village of Hogsmeade were completely abandoned. Harry and Neville hadn't seen a soul since they had snuck out here several hours ago. Even so, Harry didn't let himself relax for a second, he was certain that Mr. Manimal would attack this particular shop tonight. He'd been examining the places that Mr. Manimal had been sighted up until now and he had come to the realization that all of the previous incidents had taken place at locations where animals or things related to animals could be found. If his deductions were correct then Mildred's musty old shop with its disturbing animal dioramas was almost certain to be the site of Mr. Manimal's next attack, and this time Harry intended to finally bring him in! Up until now the hulking Manimal had always managed to evade capture… usually by literally tossing Harry out of his way as he ran away. But this time would be different, Harry swore to himself.

Just as he was vowing this, a shadow fell across the street. Neville gave a tiny involuntary squeak as Mr. Manimal rounded the corner and stepped into the light of the street. The creature was surprisingly silent as it moved despite its massive size and they hadn't detected his approach. Mr. Manimal resembled a walking mass of dark hair with a pair of hulking arms and feet. It shuffled down the street making a soft swishing sound as its coarse black hair rustled from its movements.

Harry couldn't make out any eyes in the area he assumed was where the beast's face was located and assumed that they were hidden from view by all of the hair. He did see the sheen of the light reflecting off of the jagged claws on Mr. Manimal's paw like hands. He had learned to be wary of those from past encounters.

The beast stopped in front of Mildred's shop and raised its beefy arms above its head. Harry tensed. _This is it!_

Mr. Manimal brought its fists down and the door to the shop crumpled like it was made of plaster. Neville glanced at Harry nervously but Harry held up a hand for him to wait. Up until now Harry had always faced Mr. Manimal out in open spaces, in an attempt to avoid property damage during their fights. This tactic had proved disastrous, as Mr. Manimal possessed surprising speed which had always allowed him to escape. This time Harry intended to confront the beast in a confined space where its large size would make it difficult for it to maneuver, thus giving Harry the advantage.

Mr. Manimal kicked the remains of the shop door aside with its massive hairy feet and then squeezed its way through the opening, destroying most of the doorframe in the process. As soon as it had managed to force its way into the shop Harry stood.

"Now!" He cried and sprung over the hedge, dashing into the street and almost colliding headfirst into a figure that at that same moment darted out into the street from the adjoining alley at an alarming speed.

"Whoa!" Harry cried as he skirted to a halt just in time to avoid smacking into the stranger. The figure turned around in surprise and Harry saw that it was a fit looking young man with slick, platinum blonde hair dressed in a tight white bodysuit that clung to his sinewy frame in a way that left little to the imagination.

"Whoa." Harry said again, quietly. The stranger was wearing a silver mask, which covered the upper portion of his face, but Harry was standing close enough to see that the young man had bright blue eyes which were blinking in surprise at him. Then the stranger smiled, flashing pearly white teeth.

"Well if it isn't The Bolt! I was hoping I would run into you. Guess it must be my lucky night."

"Who… What are you doing out here at this time of night Citizen?" Harry remembered to alter the sound of his voice at the last second. For some reason the appearance of this alluring stranger was making him feel like there were butterflies in his stomach and it was throwing him off his game.

"I imagine I'm here for the same reason as you." The young man gestured to the gaping hole that now existed in the front of the taxidermy shop in place of a door. Crashing sounds were coming from within as Mr. Manimal lumbered around inside.

"You… you're trying to stop Mr. Manimal, like us?" Harry asked.

"You might say that you've inspired me." The blonde stranger flashed him another smile and Harry felt his face grow hot. Hopefully the mask he wore was hiding the fact that he was blushing. Trying to regain his composure Harry cleared his throat.

"Erm. Listen….um?"

"You can call me the Silver Viper." The young man said proudly, placing his hands on his hips.

"Listen Silver Viper, this really isn't something an amateur should get involved in." Harry tried to sound authoritative.

"Could have fooled me." The stranger smirked at Neville who was standing awkwardly behind Harry.

_Damn. Even his smirk is sexy! Who is this guy?!_ Harry thought to himself. Out loud he said:

"What I mean is this is dangerous."

"Aw. Are you worried about me?" The stranger leaned forward bringing his face very close to Harry's and Harry took a flustered step back

"Well um… I-."

"Hey, I don't mean to interrupt The Bolt, but shouldn't we be doing something about Mr. Manimal?" Neville piped up. "It sounds like he's really tearing up the shop." There came another loud crash from inside Mildred's Taxidermy and Stuffed Animal Shop, as if to emphasize Neville's point.

The stranger frowned at Neville in annoyance and Harry felt much the same way inside, but he pushed those feelings aside. He had a job to do.

"Right. Let's go Kid EMO. Silver Viper, if you'd like to help you can come along, but please try to stay back and out of the way."

"After you." The Silver Viper stepped back and gave a little mocking bow.

Harry strode forward with Neville trailing behind him. He pressed up against the wall beside the opening to the shop and cautiously peered inside the building. It was dark inside the shop but Harry could make out the hulking shape of Mr. Manimal knocking around at the back of the room.

The monster was kicking over stuffed fawns and rabbits and then stopped in front of a large stuffed bugbear. Mr. Manimal reached out, wrapped its arms around the ghastly looking taxidermy animal, crushing the stuffing out of it and causing the bugbear's head to loll about in a disturbing manner.

_Now!_ Harry thought. _While it's distracted._

Harry dropped down to a crouch and, after gesturing for the others to follow him, he darted into the dark shop and somersaulted across the floor and behind a counter. Once safely behind the counter, Harry glanced behind him long enough to confirm that the others had followed him and then he slowly peered over the top of the counter at Mr. Manimal, who was still distracted with the stuffed bugbear. Harry lifted a dart gun, which he had prepared with a powerful sleeping potion, and then carefully took aim. Mr. Manimal had turned its back to the counter where they were hidden and Harry had a clear shot. He fired.

The dart shot across the room and lodged itself directly in the area where Harry assumed that Mr. Manimal's neck was located. The hair made it difficult to tell. The beast howled and whirled around, dropping the maimed bugbear in the process. The monster flailed its arms about as it tried to reach the offending dart. It knocked its fist into a table of pixie displays and sent it hurtling in the direction of the young heroes' hiding place.

"Move!" Harry shoved Silver Viper out of harm's way before hurling himself in the opposite direction and rolling out of the table's path. Neville threw himself to the ground and covered his head as the table slammed into the counter and smashed into pieces, raining debris down on him.

Harry rolled to his feet and quickly glanced up as Mr. Manimal roared again. The sleeping potion he had coated the dart with was apparently not a potent as he had hoped and instead of slipping into unconsciousness, Mr. Manimal was now rampaging through the store. It slashed blindly at whatever was in front of it and stumbled about the confined space, slamming bodily into the wall with enough force that it shook the entire building.

Harry heard a creaking sound and turned around just in time to see that a cabinet full of stuffed cats dressed in assorted outfits was about to topple over on top of him. Harry barely had time to register his impending doom when he felt himself being scooped up off his feet and carried out of the way at a great speed. The next thing he knew, Harry found himself being deposited back on the ground, a safe distance from the collapsed cabinet and Mr. Manimal's continued flailing, by the Silver Viper. The blonde young man had apparently picked him up in his arms princess style and whisked him to safety in a burst of incredible speed.

"Thank you." Harry said somewhat bashfully. Silver Viper still had his hands on Harry's shoulders and was standing rather close.

"Hey, I owed you one." Silver Viper flashed him a brilliant smile and gave his shoulders a reassuring squeeze that made Harry feel a little weak in the knees.

"Your speed was incredible. You must have developed a super power like us!" Harry marveled.

"That's not all. All of my physical abilities have been enhanced. Speed, agility, strength… among other things." Silver Viper winked at him and Harry swallowed as he wondered what other of the young man's physical attributes might have been enhanced.

"Help!" Neville shrieked, snapping Harry out of his musings. Both Harry and Silver Viper turned to see that Neville had been backed into a corner by the rampaging Mr. Manimal, who was barely being held back by a deluge of his electromagnetic orbs, which were currently pouring out of his body. Mr. Manimal swung wildly at the small balls of light and roared each time they shocked him, becoming more and more frenzied.

"Oh Blast!" Harry swore and reached for his dart gun, only to discover that he had dropped it when he'd been rescued from being crushed by the cabinet. "Blast it all!" Harry swore again.

"You look like you could use some help." A dreamy sounding female voice suddenly spoke up.

Harry jerked his head up to see a girl's head and upper torso emerge from the shadow Neville's body cast on the wall behind him. As Harry watched in shock the girl reached out and grabbed Neville from behind and pulled him shrieking into the shadow with her, both of them disappearing just before Mr. Manimal slammed its fist right through the wall.

"What the-"

"Out of the way lad!" Harry was cut off as a man in gold colored body armor and a helmet with a cat wearing a matching gold cape both dashed past him. The strange pair stopped directly behind Mr. Manimal and the cat hissed at it, causing Mr. Manimal to turn around, spittle flying from his screaming mouth. The man in the gold amor held up a dusty looking mop like a shot gun and a beam of crackling energy shot out, and slammed into Mr. Manimal, throwing the monstrosity backwards. Mr. Manimal smashed though the wall and into what appeared to be the staff bathroom, where it lay stunned on the shattered floor tiles.

"Here we go." A female voice rang out from the floor and Harry nearly jumped out of his skin as the same girl from before started to emerge from his own shadow. She dragged a trembling, wide eyed Neville with her and the two rose out of Harry's shadow till they stood on the ground directly in front of him.

"You should be safe now." The girl said calmly.

"Uuuuhhhhhh." Neville moaned and Harry had to grab hold of his shoulder in order to steady him.

"Who are you?!" Harry demanded, glancing between the girl and the man holding the mop.

"I call myself She Who Is The Night. But I guess that's a rather long name, isn't it? Perhaps I'll abbreviate it. How about you call me Switn." the girl smiled as she spoke. She was wearing a black shirt and pair of pants and a dark blue cloak, which she wore with the hood up. Harry couldn't make out her face as it was obscured by a tiny, black masquerade mask, but the girl had long blonde hair and appeared like she was close to Harry's own age. "Not long ago I discovered that I had the ability to travel between shadows and I knew that I had to use this power for good. That's why, when I heard the unmistakable cries of Mr. Manimal on one of my nightly walks, I came to help."

"It was the same for me." The man in the gold armor posed with one hand on his hip and the other holding the mop like a staff. "When I discovered that my mop was able to shoot energy beams, I knew that I had to use it to protect the school." The man's helmet had a visor which obscured the man's face, but unfortunately not his teeth, which Harry noticed were yellow and crooked as the man spoke. "You can call me Dues Ex Moppina. And this is my trusted partner, Calamity Cat."

He gestured to the cat sitting at his side. The long haired cat was now busy licking its brown and black stripped fur but it looked up long enough to regard Harry with unimpressed looking red eyes before returning to its grooming.

"Does the cat have special powers too?" Harry asked incredulously.

"She is the prettiest and most specialest cat in the world." Dues Ex Moppina beamed like a dotting parent at the cat who suddenly stopped licking its bottom and hissed.

"Oh… well that's great I- Hey look out!" Harry yelled as Mr. Manimal, apparently recovered from its shock, stepped back into the room and raised its massive paw to strike at Dues Ex Moppina's exposed back. Just then, a long snake like body dropped down from the ceiling and wrapped itself around Mr. Manimal and squeezed, like a boa constrictor trapping its prey.

"Watch what you're doing you fool." A sour voice hissed and Harry looked up and realized that the being wasn't a giant snake but a man who had stretched his body like a rubber band so that his torso was able to wrap itself around Mr. Manimal and restrain the beast. The man was holding on to one of the ceiling rafters, where he had evidently been hiding, and Harry saw that he had greasy, black, shoulder length hair and a hawk like nose, but he wore a green mask over his eyes which prevented Harry from making out any distinguishing details about his face. The man was wearing a green robe with a snake embroidered on the front and the garment had apparently been enchanted to stretch along with the man's body so that even though he had stretched himself to incredible lengths, it still covered him from head to toe.

Mr. Manimal roared in frustration and shook itself from side-to-side, but despite its best efforts was not able to break free from the snake-like man's grip. Mr. Manimal became more and more desperate and started to emit some god-awful wailing sound and began frothing at the mouth as it continued to struggle. The stretchy man twisted his head so he was glaring down at Dues Ex Moppina.

"You can blast it at any time, you know!" He said acidly. Despite his condescending tone Dues Ex Moppina merely grinned.

"Right! Thanks for the assist, Doctor Snake!" Dues Ex Moppina raised his mop and fired another energy blast at one of the exposed areas of Mr. Manimal's body. The blow seemed to hit a sensitive area as Mr. Manimal made some kind of gurgling sound and then toppled over, apparently unconscious.

"Is it over?" Neville quailed, still looking a little green.

Harry cautiously stepped forward and examined the beast.

"He seems to be out cold." He announced with no little relief.

"Excellent!" Dues Ex Moppina clapped him on the back. "He won't be troubling the school or Hogsmeade anymore." Dues Ex Moppina turned to regard the rest of the assembled costumed heroes. "We all really made a great team tonight. We should consider joining forces on an ongoing basis. That way we can work together to protect the school."

Dr. Snake gave a derisive snort as he slid down from the rafters and uncoiled his body from around Mr. Manimal, returning to the shape of an ordinary man.

"I think that's a great idea." Switn clapped her hands together. "As a team we can accomplish more good than we can alone."

"Yes…" Harry said slowly as he stared down at the unconscious Mr. Manimal. He had been struggling just to keep the creature from hurting anyone up until now. But with the help of these assembled heroes, Mr. Manimal had finally been brought down. He didn't know who any of these people were, aside from Neville, but they had all proved themselves here tonight. And an alliance could be just what he needed. He'd been running himself ragged since he had discovered his power, but if he had a team of heroes helping him to protect the school, then maybe they could all share the burden and he would be able to return to something of a normal life. "Yes, I agree. Forming a team is an excellent idea."

"Hey, where did that young man in the ridiculous white outfit go?" Dr. Snake suddenly asked.

Harry whirled around and saw for the first time that Silver Viper was no longer standing behind him. Harry glanced around the shop in confusion but the young man was nowhere in sight.

"Where…" Harry suddenly trailed off as a sudden flash of inspiration hit him. Harry ran across the room and threw open a small door at the back of the shop which led into an office. There he saw Silver Viper, outlined in the moonlight streaming through a large window, standing in front of an open vault. He was in the process of removing a taxidermy animal from the safe, which resembled a golden deer with an ox tail and a single silver horn. Silver Viper paused as Harry burst into the room and met his gaze with an impassive expression.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked breathlessly. Silver Viper shrugged and dropped the animal into a sack in a careless manner.

"Just what it looks like I'm doing." He flashed Harry a mischievous smile. "Actually I followed Mr. Manimal here because I knew that with it busting up the shop I'd have the perfect chance to take what I wanted. After all, if anyone noticed that anything was missing they would just assume that the Manimal was the culprit."

"You're… you're a thief?"

"Hey don't look so hurt, Hero." Silver Viper swung the sack over his shoulder. "Thanks for the help today. I'll see you around." He then blew Harry a kiss and without another word Silver Viper turned and leapt through the open window.

"Wait!" Harry yelled, much too late. He rushed forward and peered out the window, desperately searching the night for any sign of Silver Viper. But the thief had already disappeared.

"That was a kirin." Switn suddenly popped up beside Harry, causing him to jump. "Their horns possess special magic and can be used to make a medicine that can heal any illness."

"Yes there are many morons who believe that garbage." Dr. Snake shoved past Neville, who had been standing gawking in the doorway. "He'll probably be able to sell that carcass for a fortune on the black market."

"If that young man knew the kirin was here and plans to sell it, then he might have connections to dark wizards." Dues Ex Moppina crowded his way into the room after Dr. Snake. "We'll have to keep our eyes open in case he becomes a threat to Hogwarts."

Harry sighed and looked back out the window again, confused thoughts and emotions swirling around inside of him. Silver Viper had saved him during the struggle with Mr. Manimal, could he really be a villain? Conflicted emotions battled in his chest as he stared out into the empty night.

* * *

**Author's Aside:**

**Blonde One: Ah, I love a good romance.**

**Tomato Face: I don't. But that's okay, because you introduced the non-hot kind of action and all of our super heroes.**

**Blonde One: Oh? That chapter wasn't hot enough for you? I'll keep that in mind next time.**

**Tomato Face: You can do what you like. Just keep in mind that I have my cards to destroy whatever romance you try to create. I'm the antagonist in our meta-story.**

**Blonde One: And yet, good always prevails.**

**Tomato Face: Well, there's not enough romance for me to ruin anything yet. Just delightful little tinges of rustling Harry's jimmies. I'll wait for you to make something nicer before I smash it.**

**Blonde One: So are you playing a card then, or not? Because I'm getting tired of listening to you boast about how you're going to ruin everything.**

**Tomato Face: Indeed I am! But I think I'll just flesh things out a little for this go-round. I'm going to play the "Helper" card, in which a character gets a henchman, butler, or sidekick.**

Will Tomato Face really ruin everything? What good will a butler do? Tune in next time to find out!


	4. Chapter 3: Bad Kids

**Chapter 3: Bad Kids**

Melvin McCormick was an unusual boy. His parents had always been supportive but his mother was quietly anxious as she had noticed his unusual tendency to fixate on certain things with great intensity. As a young child, these episodes didn't seem particularly out of place with his cognitive development, as they didn't last terribly long. But they persisted past his tenth birthday, and were becoming stronger and lasting longer than they ever had before.

His mother had expressed interest in taking Melvin to a magical specialist to find out if there was some non-rational explanation to what was going on – a proposition that Melvin's father curiously had a very strong objection to. At first she had conceded to her husband's wishes, but as Melvin developed a distressing obsession with the number of classifiable shades of browns and blacks that could be found on toast (which resulted with stacks of uneaten, toasted bread) his mother was finally and suddenly pushed past her breaking point. Perhaps no more than a week past his tenth birthday, she brought him in to see an auror…who referred her to a charms specialist who referred her to a hex master who then referred her to a potions master. Melvin, frustrated with the array of sometimes invasive and often ridiculous diagnostic tests that had so far yielded no results, was not keen to face another so-called expert.

However, the potions master had only to swab him with a little cotton ball on a stick, stare at the shade of black it turned, and tut in concern before offering his mother a diagnosis.

"Mrs. McCormick, has your son ever, to your knowledge, ingested a fixation elixir?" She asked with a forced calm that betrayed her concern.

"No, why? Where would he even have come into contact with something like that?" His mother frowned in surprise. "Are you sure you're not mistaken? Perhaps he accidentally did at a day care facility?"

The potions master paused before sighing and continuing, "Mrs. McCormick, the gentleness of that question was merely a formality." She glanced over at Melvin, who was engrossed with a picture of a partridge wearing glasses, "Your son has not only been exposed to a fixation elixir, but from the shade of black the indicator turned I can only infer that he has been exposed to large quantities of it over a long period of time. From the looks of it, I'd say at least six years."

"What?" Melvin's mother looked panicked. "How can that be? Where would he have-"

"The only possibility I can see is that your son has somehow come into contact with it in his home environment." She held up a roll of parchment, "In the history that you filled out for your son, the only place in the list he regularly occupied that was not under some kind of enchantment to prevent exposure to disallowed magical substances was your home."

Melvin's mother sat down heavily. "I-I don't understand." She stammered.

"Well, in a situation like this, I find it's best to just ask the person concerned." The potions master tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear and readjusted her glasses before kneeling down next to Melvin.

"Hullo there." She smiled. "My name is Karen, and I'm trying to help you and your mother."

Melvin turned to look at her, and stared at her face blankly – too absorbed to speak.

Not deterred and adept at working with children, the potions master held up the black swab. "Do you see this swab, Melvin? It turned black because you drank a lot of a magical potion. Fairly often, I should say. Your mother and I want to find out where this potion came from. Was there someone who gave you something funny to drink?" Melvin stared at her blankly. "Maybe someone in your house?"

"I wasn't supposed to tell." Melvin's voice trailed off uncertainly and he blinked owlishly at her, turning to bore holes into the cotton swab with his intense gaze. "Dad said he was going to use the winnings to buy Mum something nice."

"Winnings?" Melvin's mother looked at her boy in shock. "What do you mean? What has Dad been doing?"

* * *

The interim year before Melvin stood at the gates of Hogwarts was a difficult time for his family, and it was a daily strain for his mother to live the shame down. Whispered comments and secretive but gloating looks followed her everywhere she went for most of that year.

How could Mrs. McCormick not know that her husband had been part of an illegal toddler puzzle ring? That he and the other fathers had fed their small children fixation elixirs in order to motivate them to race against each other through a giant, labyrinth-like maze to get whatever object of fixation they placed at the centre? And that this had continued until the children were eight? Or that he'd spent it all on chocolate frogs? Really, such a clueless woman was to blame for her son's current…condition.

It was mother-blaming at its finest. And with his father in Azkaban for a number of years, Melvin's mother endured the gossip because Melvin was all that she had left.

Until Mrs. Partridge down the road stupidly mixed a hazardous demolition potion into the family stew and the resulting explosion maimed one of her children and fused the remaining two together ten months later. Then all the mothers and Mrs. McCormick could agree that _Mrs. Partridge_ was the epitome of an unfit mother, and her world more or less returned to normal (minus Mr. McCormick.)

Through therapy administered by the potions master and a charms expert combined, Melvin was able to achieve a stable state. While he tended to be more obsessive than the average child his age, it was generally no longer so far beyond normalcy that it would raise any kind of alarm. Mrs. McCormick was told that, while Melvin would never relapse, unfortunately some of the damage was permanent. This meant that there was no more progress to be made with magical therapy, and that there were likely several fixations floating around in his head that, should they ever manifest, would be extreme. As to what those were, it was anyone's guess. It was even possible that they'd be so extremely specific that Melvin would statistically never be exposed to and thus never develop a fixation with whatever that may be. Mrs. McCormick shrugged, figuring that was good enough, and was happy to have her son somewhat back to normal (still intrigued with toast colours and patterns, however.)

It was in this state that Melvin had begun his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

* * *

While sitting at his first breakfast in the Great Hall, Melvin found himself feeling shy and reserved among his cohort of first years eating together at the Ravenclaw table. Out of his element, and not sure what to even offer by way of small talk, he picked away at the bountiful variety of foods that appeared and refilled themselves in front of him. Looking up nervously, he scanned the head table to see what the assortment of professors was like. His eyes were suddenly drawn to a spot of darkness close to the middle of the table, and he observed a pale man with greasy black hair wearing black robes. It stirred a memory in the back of his mind, a cotton swab turned inky black, and he felt a small budding of emotion inside. Suddenly gripped by this sensation, he turned urgently to the student seated next to him. She was a fair-haired girl with brown eyes and faint freckles across her face.

"Excuse me," he didn't bother introducing himself, "do you know who that professor is over there? The one in black?"

The girl smiled in reply and squinted at the head table.

"Oh, him?" He nodded. "That's Professor Snape, the potions master."

"The potions-" Melvin felt like he'd been hit by a tonne of bricks, as faint pieces suddenly snapped together from that memory almost a year old now.

Black hair, potions master, and black, black, black. It was a complicated feeling that arose inside, and one he would have been hard-pressed to describe. It conjured up Karen's face, the kindness she had shown him, the gratitude he felt towards her, and the admiration for her great skill. But more than that, it was an intense fixation on how all of the elements were so perfectly blended together into that one person sitting at the staff table. How that one person in the entire world sitting right there was almost exactly _the_ perfect person. It was breath taking.

"Why do you ask? Have you heard anything about him?" The girl tried to make conversation.

He looked at her almost as if looking through her, his face pale and his eyes wide.

"I'm sorry, I have to go," and he urgently ran from the room.

Melvin had gone to the washroom in order to steady himself, still reeling from the unpleasant mix of emotions that he had been experiencing all at once. His hands shook lightly and he felt a little dizzy, but after splashing cold water on his face and taking many a deep breath, Melvin was able to straighten up and feel closer to normal. Except for the knowledge that he had just seen someone who was arguably the most important person he had ever seen. Although Melvin wanted to play it cool and be a normal student at Hogwarts, and possibly because he was unaware that he was falling prey to one of his strongest lingering fixations, Melvin left the bathroom with the strong feeling that he must ingratiate himself to Professor Snape and help him in any way that he possibly could.

* * *

Potions classes were awkward times for both Professor Snape, Melvin, and the rest of the students. Having no deep-seated hatred for the boy informed by painful memories of the past, Snape was not openly hostile or even gently scornful. Melvin was attentive in his class, worked hard, performed well, and was picking up potions with a level of ease that Snape had seldom observed before. The only thing about the boy that he could really object to was that he was Ravenclaw (and not Slytherin), and that he stared intently at Snape for the better part of the class. That was quite unnerving.

On the day prior to Dumbledore's announcement of Mr. Manimal and his stance against The Bolt, Snape had just finished cleaning the black board of chalk when he turned around to see that Melvin had waited after class. He flinched visibly in surprise when he was met with Melvin's intense and very discomfiting stare.

"Mr. McCormick?" He managed to croak out in a voice that _almost_ sounded bored and uninterested.

"Please, you can call me Melvin… Professor, I'm sorry, I just- I just wanted to ask you something." Melvin seemed nervous, although it was hard to tell by the way he was staring fixedly.

Pieces snapped together and Snape felt a sigh welling up, which he suppressed for the moment. Some emotionally masochistic students with Daddy issues tended to find his brusque and callous manner intriguing, and he found himself having to fend off disturbing and wayward crushes far more often than he would like. Even after he'd stopped washing his hair, it made no difference. He'd learned the hard way that a harsh rejection was only giving them more of what they wanted, so he opted for the less-natural but hopefully more successful plan B: trying to be nice.

"Mr. McCormick, I refer to all students by surname because familiarity breeds contempt – for me, that is." He started out conservatively. "And while I do appreciate your skill in the art of potions, that will not curry you any favor with me. Largely because you are not a member of Slytherin." He explained.

"I'm not seeking any special treatment. It-it's hard to explain. I'm poorly socialized due to a condition that I have, so I have difficulty communicating this clearly. It's like…I used to be very fixated on toast. I was slowly working up an organized inventory of the shades it could turn – with samples, of course – and it was all part of this condition I had and still kind of have and,…" Snape rolled his eyes, listening to the urchin's ramblings.

But something tickled at the back of his brain. Suddenly recalling the boy's name, everything snapped into sharp focus and Snape's eyes bugged slightly.

This was _Melvin McCormick_. The tragedy case of the boy who'd been permanently damaged by fixation elixir administered by his father. Of course, Snape didn't care about such trite sob stories, but what he did care about was the woman who had repaired a significant amount of the damage. Karen Kalderscone had instantly been propelled into academic stardom. All the wizarding academic journals had clamored to publish her, and she was promoted through the ranks of the Ministry so fast her head had been spinning. Before anyone knew it, she had become the foremost authority on potions in the country, if not one of the top experts in the world. And all from what she had developed in trying to cure this little McCormick. With all of the child care regulations that had come about, finding a child this fucked up to experiment on and learn from by 'research' was a rare opportunity.

Kalderscone had determined that she had fixed all that was possible to fix. Snape gave Melvin an appraising look as the boy continued to babble on about his annoying problems in what he was sure was a difficult and soulful coming out (of sorts) to someone he both admired and trusted. If he could find a way to fix the rest of the damage, Snape reasoned, he could further potions research and discovery. Maybe even be propelled through the ranks and knock Kalderscone from her marble pedestal in the Ministry! The possibility of his own success was too good to pass up. Melvin was clearly fixated on him, and unethical as it may be, Snape intended to use that to his advantage. Why, some of the best muggle scientists of old had experimented on human infants before pesky ethics had been introduced, and look how much slower science was progressing for them now that informed consent and ethical experimentation was the norm!

_Yes,_ He nodded as Melvin wiped at an eye with his emotional narrative of alienation and abuse, _this should do nicely_.

So Snape took the boy under his wing, so to speak, and allowed him to get close. Melvin ended up being the first student since Snape's becoming potions master to be awarded the official position 'postions assistant'. The students with daddy issues had to bite their thumbs in spite, but didn't give Melvin a hard time because he was closer to Snape than any student had ever gotten, and they wanted to live vicariously through him. So Melvin found himself, for the first time in his life, with a posse. He still had as of yet to make real friends, but it has been suggested that having a posse is a gateway to making friends… They were all of them from different houses and united by one important quality: a strange, unhealthy fixation with Professor Snape. And since this was something Melvin both understood and excelled at, he was their king.

Much to the horror of students and staff who upheld a strict policy of separation among the four houses, Todd Snowball of Slytherin would openly flout the unwritten rule by carting an antique card table from his room down to the Great Hall for every meal. Todd himself only had one chair (which he used) so the other members of their group had to improvise seating. Ninling Wang (who went by Nathan) also hailed from Slytherin and, having been raised with a general disregard for living things, demanded a house elf support him as he ate with his friends. Petunia Smith from Hufflepuff petrified her sweater in the shape of a chair, Rose Lalonde of Gryffindor brought her wicker laundry bin and turned it up-side-down, and Melvin brought and sat on the large birdcage that would have housed his owl had his father not been sentenced to Azkaban and removed the larger of the two incomes that his parents brought in, leaving his single mother struggling to even put supper on the table some nights.

Most of the staff, Snape especially, felt compelled to right this wrong, but were unsure of how to do so. Largely because they had no official authority. So, while they would occasionally be reprimanded on where they chose to locate their card table and every now and again be pelted with food and disgust by their other classmates, the five of them were often able to eat in peace.

"That's nothing," Nathan whispered at one supper, "I've been collecting some strands of his hair!" He pulled an unsightly bundle from his pocket to show it off.

Everyone except for Melvin and Petunia's faces shone with excitement as they beheld the gross collection of random hair. Petunia, embarrassed, balled up and dropped the thread she was pretty sure had come from Snape's robes on the ground. Melvin, while he enjoyed having people to spend his time with, couldn't help but feel in these awkward moments that he didn't quite have the same kind of fixation on Snape that they did.

Rose grinned dreamily, "I have a scrapbook where I cut out and paste all of his caustic comments on my graded papers, write the ones I hear in class, and put the drawings I make of him while he lectures."

Often their discussions would focus on potions, and sometimes they would even ask Melvin about his work as potions assistant. Today, it seemed, was one of those awkward conversation days.

Todd leaned back in his chair, "'E came to my 'ouse one time." He bragged.

"No way!" Petunia narrowed her eyes at him.

"'E did!" Todd nodded, "Thought it was the cleaner's.'

There was a collective gasp and pause as everyone but Melvin imagined how amazingly lucky they could have been if Snape had accidentally deigned their humble abode with a visit.

"But you must feel so lucky, Melvin!" Rose turned back to their king, "You get to spend so much time with him and see him every day."

Melvin nodded, "Yes, I do feel lucky. I'm learning so much more about potions, and even though I don't understand why, I'm happy to have someone who is important to me like to have me around." He picked at his toast, which was just 3.5 shades shy of the one he liked best. "Although, he keeps on asking strange questions about my past…accident and writing things down."

"Maybe he has a book like mine!" Rose squealed.

"No, that couldn't be it," Melvin squirmed uncomfortably, secretly hoping it was true.

And technically it was, so long as you replaced the word 'book' with 'research journal' and 'fanatical interest in' with 'research subject'.

"Are you meeting with him today?" Petunia tried to broach the subject delicately, but wound up leaning forward with bright eyes.

"Yes, in a few hours around seven." Melvin said bashfully. "We're going to prep the ingredients for class tomorrow and he'll probably ask me some more questions."

"Oh, you lucky dog." Nathan sighed dreamily.

Far away at the staff table, Snape grumpily eyed the five children chatting away. They were blessedly out of earshot, but Snape's keen mind could infer the nature of their conversation. Hell, even a moron could have figured it out. It made him uncomfortable. Disturbing though it was, at least Melvin had a legitimate excuse.

"Quite the little fan club you have there, eh?" Professor Flitwick nudged him in the ribs with an assholish gleam in his eyes, barely containing a hideous giggle.

"Stuff it." Snape griped, plunging his fork into a pork cutlet.

"Do you know what _I_ love about the students who adore me?" Flitwick continued.

"They're barely taller than you?" Snape stabbed with his words as his pride ached.

Professor Flitwick frowned, decided it wasn't too much fun to pick on Snape, and went back to his meal in a disappointed huff.

"So what do you think, about it? The Bolt, I mean," Nathan started up a surprisingly different conversation.

"I think he's dreamy!" Rose sighed.

"You've seen him?" Melvin looked up from his meal of toast in surprise.

"Who hasn't?" Nathan shifted, causing the house elf under him to groan with the strain of keeping him upright. "He's been all over the papers now that someone's caught a photo of him."

"He _has_?" Melvin gaped at the four in shock, who in turn gaped at him back.

"Don't you read the papers, Melvin?" Nathan gave him a chastising look. "That's our window to the world."

"No, of course I don't! That's not one of my fixations, so I can't be bothered." By now, Melvin had felt comfortable enough to explain his condition to his posse, although they had already known everything because they, apparently, read the papers.

"Oh Merlin, how could you not – here." Petunia slapped a photo cut roughly out of the paper onto the table in front of Melvin's plate of toast.

Melvin looked down at the photo and his insides clenched up tightly.

"What-" His whispered, barely audible.

The bolt stood facing off against Mr. Manimal, a wind whipping through his black hair. Melvin looked closely at the face, which was covered by a mask, making it impossible to identify the person. But there was something that stirred deep within him, looking at the black hair, the black mask, and that confident, arrogant body posture. As he stared at the photo, transfixed, Melvin felt a sudden conviction welling within his chest.

It was Snape. It had to be. Who else would be selflessly patrolling the school and protecting them from evil? Who else radiated a combination of pride and scorn? Who else had such jet-black hair?

And suddenly everything else snapped back into a new context. Interested in Melvin though he was, Snape was always going off at random hours after inventing random excuses. One time he even said he had a wizard chess tournament with some friends, when Melvin knew for a fact that he had no friends. He knew Snape had been lying, just not why. And now that he finally understood – that Snape had been protecting the school while hiding his true identity as potions master – he also understood (in his mind) why he had been called to Snape.

He had to serve him. That was how he could give back to Hogwarts, by keeping Snape's secret safe and helping to support him while he protected everyone from the evil forces that were mysteriously spawning around them. He looked at the head table, taking in Snape's wretched form and scowling face, dark, beady little eyes. Truly there sat a great man.

"Melvin?" Todd waved his hand in front of Melvin's eyes.

"Oh! Sorry." Melvin brought his attention back. "I was lost."

"Lost in his eyes, huh." Nathan looked briefly at Snape. "We've all been there, bro. They're just so dark and twisty. Like a secret place of denied affection."

The four looked dreamy for a moment and then sighed wistfully. Melvin, however, was still at rigid attention while trying to figure out what it is that he should do. When he noticed Snape standing and leaving out of the corner of his eye, Melvin briefly took note, waited a few moments, and then made some excuse to his posse before taking his birdcage and, as surreptitiously as possible with a large birdcage in your arms, left the Great Hall.

* * *

Breathlessly, he jogged down the hallways, going where he thought Snape might go. If he were some kind of masked vigilante protecting the school and his own identity, where might he go? Deciding that he would patrol the perimeter, he ducked out the nearest exit and looked around him. All he could see was the accursed grounds of Hogwarts – no Snape.

It was then that he started to doubt himself. Maybe Snape was actually just a weird loner who wandered off randomly to cry or something like that. It was probably more in keeping with his personality. Maybe Melvin had just let himself get too excited about the whole thing, and his mind was blowing everything out of –

"Arrrgh!" Melvin jumped in surprise as he heard a strangled scream from just around the next corner of the castle.

Taking off at a dead sprint and forgetting to drop the heavy birdcage he was carting, Melvin rounded the corner in time to see a scene so confusing that it took him a few seconds to make heads of it.

At first, he thought he was looking at a scene where two flaming haired, but masked and thus unidentifiable youths were tied up in a long, green rope. But when he looked closer, he saw that the green rope was really a robe belonging to a very thin, stretched out man who had wrapped himself around them. The masked stranger looked up at the identical youths.

"I know all about your plan to lace all of Hogwarts with laughing gas, Team Twosome!" He shouted in an angry, caustic voice.

"Let us go, Dr. Snake!" One of them shouted.

"We know you hate fun, but that doesn't mean you have to ruin it for the rest of Hogwarts!" The other shouted.

"It's only fun for you two! The formula in the prototype I disarmed and analyzed in my lab last week contains a highly dangerous combination of newt gonads and snake venom that could have a fatal reaction with any student who was born on a day when there was a shooting star in the sky." Dr. Snake shouted, squeezing them a little tighter in irritation.

"What are we going to do, G2?" One of the two young men dressed in red spandex with yellow stripes down the sides turned to his partner.

"I dunno, F1! Dr. Buzzkill here has got us in a right pickle!" Although his banter was adorable, both men were clearly on the ropes and none to happy about it.

"Now to unmask you troublemakers and take you into the authorities!" Dr. Snake suddenly stretched his arms out to remove the gold masks protecting the identity of the two young men, when suddenly a large, golden scepter with a giant M cast in metal at the top came crashing down onto his head.

"Ungh!" Dr. Snake suddenly went limp and the coils holding Team Twosome captive fell loosely to the ground.

Dr. Snake groped around on the ground, trying to prop himself upright again, but was only able to flop limply on the ground like a dying fish.

"Muggle me this," A woman dressed in a dark purple outfit and tall, black boots stepped out from the shadows, "what are you two morons doing out here alone trying to pick fights with the other side?" Her scowling face was concealed by a silver hooded cape, casting her face into dark shadows. The bushy hair poking out from under the hood gave little clue to Melvin, who had pressed himself against the wall of the castle and watched the happenings in concern.

"Thank goodness you came by, The Muggler." F1 sighed in surprise.

"Although we're not sure why you're helping us," G2 admitted.

"Let's just say I have an instinctive hatred of snakes." The Muggler looked down at Dr. Snake in disgust, grinding her heel into the back of his hand, which accomplished nothing because both hands were still stretched out and rubbery.

"Well, we owe you one," F1 set his partner up.

"So how'd you like to make us Team Threesome?" G2 delivered the punch line by waggling his eyebrows and making an expression that suggested their invitation was of an inappropriate nature.

The Muggler stamped her foot, angry. "You guys seriously need to think of a better catch phrase!" She shouted.

"What, like yours?" G2 gave her a condescending look. "Starting all of your statements with, 'Muggle me this' and then saying whatever you want? It doesn't even make sense."

"I don't have to answer to you two!" The Muggler shrieked. "And at any rate," she said hotly, putting her hands on her hips, "I think it's time we unmasked Dr. Snake and framed him for Silver Viper's misdeeds. Then I think Dumbledore will have a little vacation for him – to Azkaban!"

The Muggler knelt down to unmask the now unconscious man on the ground, when suddenly a ball of light energy slammed into the grass inches from her hand. Dirt flew everywhere, knocking her backwards, and Dr. Snake's face was slightly scorched.

"Stop right there!" A powerful voice boomed.

Melvin gasped and looked up to the top of a nearby window, a sound that was masked by Team Twosome doing the same thing. The Muggler looked up from the ground, scowling and spitting out blades of grass.

Framed in the window above, The Bolt and Kid EMO stood.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, The Bolt?" Kid EMO squeaked as The Bolt leapt from the window and fell effortlessly to the ground.

Emboldened by his mentor, Kid EMO carefully tumbled from the window and fell to the ground in a heap on top of Dr. Snake, who moaned in pain. Kid EMO jumped to his feet and dusted himself off in embarrassment, pretending that nothing had happened.

"Isn't it a lovely night out tonight? Why spoil it unmasking one of my comrades and bringing the wrath of all of us raining down on your pretty little heads?" The Bolt said in a booming voice, laced with the venom of a threat.

Melvin's eyes shone, completely fixated on The Bolt. There was now no doubt in his mind that it was Snape.

"Tch! You!" F1 glared at the proud man.

"You always have to spoil everything." G2 sulked.

"But this time, you're too cocky," The Muggler stood and brushed herself off. "Unless I've miscounted, there's three of us and two of you."

"Oh my!" Kid EMO wailed, completely intimidated.

"Maybe one and a half." The Muggler gave a slow, sultry smile.

"No time for banter," F1 shot the Muggler a serious look.

"Time to fight!" G2 nodded, and he and F1 clapped their hands together.

"Manifest: Morningstar!" G2 shouted, and his hands suddenly morphed into morningstars.

"Manifest: rhinoceros!" F1 shouted, and suddenly became an unnerving flesh, red, and gold-coloured animal.

"Oh, nicely done!" G2 was impressed by his partner's creativity.

F1 could only grunt in response.

"Don't count me out, boys," The Muggler quickly removed her gloves and gripped her staff even tighter, electricity pouring from her hands and coursing along the length of the metal rod. "I don't usually team up, but I'd just _love_ to put The Bolt away."

"What do we do, The Bolt?" Kid EMO seemed to be quaking.

The Bolt's eyes narrowed and his body tensed for battle.

"We fight like out lives depend on it."

"Because they do?" Kid EMO gave their opponents a wary glance.

The Bolt only nodded in response before whipping out a pair of dart pistols and firing them at F1, who could only move slowly as a rhinoceros. They sank into his hide, and F1 immediately stumbled before collapsing and reverting back to his original form.

"Now we're even!" The Bolt growled, and pulled out a pair of sai from his belt to face off against G2. "Kid EMO, you take The Muggler! I didn't think to wear my insulated boots on patrol this evening."

Kid EMO, suddenly being called upon, jumped as though he'd been kicked in the pants, and ran forward while unleashing a torrent of glowing orbs at The Muggler. The Muggler, apparently quite acrobatic and well-trained in the fighting arts, used her electric staff to deflect Kid EMOs energy orbs while leaping flips over the ones she failed to knock away.

"Fool! The energy from your orbs is only making me stronger!" She howled, dodging the orbs and getting closer and closer to a concerned Kid EMO, who was pretty sure he couldn't draw more energy from electricity in the air like The Muggler, who apparently could.

The Bolt clashed with G2 as The Muggler finally descended on Kid EMO, who had the presence of mind to take out the rubber police baton The Bolt had given him as a failsafe in case his powers should not be enough.

G2 swung his Morningstar arms around his body in a dizzying pattern, protecting himself and lashing out strikes randomly and dangerously. The Bolt blocked a particularly whipping and vicious blow by crossing his sais to absorb the impact, and they were torn from his hands. They flew through the air and embedded themselves into the side of the castle. Taking only an instant to look back and take stock of the surroundings behind him, The Bolt rolled to the side as G2 slammed his hands into the ground where he had just been standing. The Bolt gathered up some coils of Dr. Snake's loose and rubbery torso in his arms and threw them at G2's arms, which became tangled in the rubbery mess. The pivot point of the chains changed, and suddenly both morningstars had become entangled only to hit G2 in his own head, knocking him unconscious. Before The Bolt could turn to see how Kid EMO was doing, The Muggler's electrified M rod caught him in the side of the head. It was a glancing blow, but it left him dizzy and reeling as he fell to the ground. Looking up in alarm and head spinning, his vision barely cleared before the Muggler brought the end of her rod down onto his chest. The Bolt's body jerked as the light hit knocked the wind out of him and he gasped for air. Then, she poured massive amounts of electricity from her body into his.

The Bolt screamed and convulsed as a good deal more electricity than it was used to suddenly entered his body, and the Muggler gave a grim smile. She wasn't a big fan of murder – in fact she generally respected the rights of others. However, she couldn't have The Bolt messing up her plans anymore.

Apparently although Kid EMO could give off electro magnetic orbs, his body was not able to take that energy back inside like hers could. He lay unconscious on the ground a few feet away after a very short and pathetic fight. The Muggler was quietly impressed by The Bolt's tenacity as he reached up for the staff and tried to knock it away, but he was growing weaker by the second. It was a pity he was on the wrong side. He would have been a powerful ally.

Suddenly, something hit the Muggler on the side of her head. It was hard and heavy, and literally sent her spinning over her heels. She fell in a heap to the ground, her staff fallen to the side, and curled up in a ball as a series of heavy blows rained down on her.

Melvin, utterly bewildered and not at all sure what he was doing, was bludgeoning her with his birdcage in shock. The Bolt, barely conscious, managed to roll onto all fours, his lungs gasping and burning for air as he was suddenly able to breathe. Barely past the choking stage, he staggered to Melvin quickly and urgently, and pulled him off of The Muggler, who was curled up in the fetal position and shouting nonsense in an attempt to protect herself.

"There, that's a good lad," He coaxed the boy, who was obviously in shock. "There's no sense getting away and killing anyone."

"I-I-" Melvin stuttered, feeling utterly numb inside.

The Bolt nearly collapsed, and Melvin managed to hold him up.

"I've got to get out of here, the authorities will no doubt have heard about the ruckus and are on their way," The Bolt pointed up to a window, where a horrified looking girl was watching.

"The Bolt, I'm so sorry!" Kid EMO staggered up to his mentor, his eyes stinging and a little wet. "I failed you!"

"No," The Bolt shook his head. "You're still learning. If anything, it was my inadequate teaching."

"Oh, those little ASSHOLES!" They heard Dumbledore's voice shouting from inside the castle as he rushed to the scene of the tussle.

"We'd best be going, though," The Bolt's face paled further. "Can you help me, Kid EMO?"

Kid EMO nodded, much more able-bodied than The Bolt, and carried his mentor off into the night. "Be sure to tend to Dr. Snake!" He had called out behind him.

Terrified, Melvin had speedily gathered Dr. Snake's coiled body into his birdcage and then dragged it off into the bushes to hide. He had watched as The Muggler came back to her senses and fled the scene, shouting, "Muggle, muggle!" as her new catchphrase.

Mere moments before Dumbledore had made his way down from the castle, G2 had also regained consciousness, gathered up his partner, and similarly fled.

Melvin stayed hidden as Dumbledore and the school authorities were finally able to descend onto the scene. He stayed breathlessly and silently, watching Professor McGonagal gathering clues and giving her read of the situation to Dumbledore. Melvin couldn't help but note that Professor Snape was curiously absent, only cementing his belief that Snape was really The Bolt. After what seemed like half an hour, they were apparently satisfied that they'd gathered all of the clues they could and left the scene of the altercation. Melvin finally let out a sigh of relief, and tucked his trembling hands underneath his armpits as he tried to finally calm down from the shock he'd just experienced.

"Mind letting me out of here?" Melvin jumped and realized that in his shock, he had left Dr. Snake cooped up in the birdcage.

Wordlessly, Melvin obliged, and Dr. Snake slithered out, forming into a more man-shaped body. Dr. Snake looked down at Melvin, who was still seated, and let out a heavy sigh.

"So I suppose you've figured it out now, haven't you?" Dr. Snake was, of course, referring to his secret identity as Professor Snape, which he was certain an obsessed and bright boy like Melvin had figured out rather quickly after everything he had just witnessed. There were just so many clues.

Melvin nodded, "Yes," thinking that Dr. Snake meant that Melvin had figured out that The Bolt was Professor Snape.

"Then there's nothing more to say for now." Dr. Snake said tersely, and ran off into the night leaving Melvin to wander numbly back to his dorm.

* * *

The next day, Melvin found himself in Professor Snape's lab as potions assistant. The two worked wordlessly together, each thinking their own separate thoughts. Thoughts that were related, but so very, very far off.

Snape, feeling himself to be in the vulnerable position of his identity being compromised, felt forced into being especially nice and accommodating to Melvin, who held this leverage over him. While he intended to continue his devious research, he was going to have to be a lot nicer to the boy. He flinched, knowing it could result in some kind of trust-based bond between the two of them. He might even warm up to it. The thought sickened him.

Melvin worked silently and proudly away, glowing as he stood next to the man he was fixated on and now believed to be The Bolt. He never could have dreamed that his condition could lead to something so helpful, and for the first time in a long time he felt needed and proud of himself.

He vowed to serve Professor Snape, and to help The Bolt in his quest to keep Hogwarts safe.

* * *

**Author's Aside:**

Blonde One: While I am a fan of Professor Snape, that didn't appear to…how do you say…advance the plot much.

Tomato Face: No, it certainly _appears_ that it didn't.

Blonde One: Hmmm…that sounds like you might have some kind of secret plan in mind.

Tomato Face: I don't know what you're talking about. Tee hee.

Blonde One: Well, I think I'll bide my time and my cards for this round. Wait until you reveal your plan, and then I can ruin it.

Tomato Face: Do as you please, but bear in mind that I am a great planner and a master ruiner!

Does Tomato Face actually have a secret plan? Is it good? Is she just double-faking Blonde One? And what will Blonde One will do next chapter if she's not playing any cards? Stay tuned for the next installment of Bad Romance!


	5. Chapter 4: Speechless

**Chapter 4: Speechless**

"Blast it all to hell!" Dumbledore slammed his fist down on his ancient wooden table so hard that it groaned and Professor McGonagall winced involuntarily. The two were meeting in Headmaster Dumbledore's office to discuss the increasingly troublesome situation facing the school. While the Headmaster had never been particularly tidy, Professor McGonagall had observed that his office had become increasingly chaotic over the past couple of weeks and there were now papers and books strewn about the floor and covering every available table. Bookshelves had been moved aside to make way for a massive corkboard, which now hung on one wall. The board was filled with newspaper clippings, photographs and random tidbits of information related to the costumed troublemakers who were making Professor McGonagall's life so difficult.

"Do you mean to tell me," the Headmaster continued to rant, "That, after we finally apprehended Mr. Manimal, three more psychos have suddenly popped up to cause trouble in my school?!"

"I'm afraid so sir." Professor McGonagall sighed. She had been hoping to get a break now that they finally had Mr. Manimal in custody. But with the appearance of The Muggler and Team Twosome it seemed that the nice long bath and tall glass of whiskey she had been looking forward to would just have to wait.

"And to make matters worse, now there are even more costumed vigilantes running around the school and making a mess of things." Dumbledore seethed, clenching and unclenching his fists as if he were imagining strangling someone.

"To be fair sir," McGonagall said hesitantly. "It was thanks to The Bolt and the other masked heroes that Mr. Manimal was finally brought in."

"Don't you start calling them heroes, Minerva!" Dumbledore snapped. "It's bad enough that the students are calling them that! I can't have my chief Inspector going soft on these rabble rousers, I need you absolutely committed to their capture."

"Sorry sir, it was a slip of the tongue." Professor McGonagall said quickly. Headmaster Dumbledore stared at her intensely for a moment with steely eyes that seemed to be assessing her very thoughts. Finally the Headmaster let out a tired sigh.

"Inspector, I admit that it's true that we were able to bring Mr. Manimal into our custody because The Bolt and his compatriots had zapped/drugged him into unconsciousness, and then left him tied up at the taxidermy store. Certainly I am glad that Mr. Manimal no longer poses a threat to the school, however this hardly means that we can trust a group of thugs who are acting outside of the bounds of the law. These so called 'heroes' have not been granted any kind of proper authority and they have no form of accountability for their actions. Even if we were to assume that they have no ulterior motives and that their intentions are good, I can only view their actions as being arrogant and misguided. We cannot permit them to simply do as they please. As it stands their battles with The Muggler and Team Twosome are no better than fights between two opposing street gangs. They are putting the students and faculty of this school at risk. "

"I suppose…"

"Minerva, have you seen the student papers?!" Dumbledore trust a copy of the Hogwarts Herald in McGonagall's face. She took the newspaper from him and looked at the front page. The headline read "Alliance forms amongst the heroes."

The article included a picture of several of the masked heroes of Hogwarts standing around an unconscious Mr. Manimal, apparently congratulating each other on their victory. Professor McGonagall frowned at the picture. This was just a student run newspaper that was headed by known eccentric Luna Lovegood, and yet the Hogwarts Herald was always managing to get shockingly close-up pictures of the costumed heroes whenever they appeared in action. McGonagall had tried to find out how they were managing it, but the photographer was always listed as anonymous. When she had questioned Luna about the identity of the photographer the girl had flat-out refused to reveal her source, citing journalistic integrity. McGonagall had had no choice but to give up.

"They've formed some kind of army!" Dumbledore continued to rage. "They're calling themselves The League of Comrades, apparently. Such nonsense! I mean what kind of name is that?"

"I'm sure I don't know sir." McGonagall said with her most deadpan voice. Dumbledore sighed

"I need you to re-double your efforts Minerva. This blatant scorning of proper authority cannot be allowed to continue."

"Yes sir."

* * *

When McGonagall returned to her room she was mildly surprised to find that her window was wide open, despite the fact that she hated drafts and always kept them shut.

"Good afternoon, Inspector." A raspy voice came from behind her. McGonagall really wished she knew how he managed to keep getting in.

"I wish that I could say that it was a good afternoon." McGonagall turned around to regard The Bolt, who was standing in the corner of her room partially concealed by the shadows cast by her dresser. She wondered how long he had been standing there, waiting for her to come back.

_He had better not have touched any of my stuff!_ McGonagall thought.

"The Headmaster is right pissed off about this little alliance you've formed. I'd advise that you and your friends watch yourselves." McGonagall crossed her arms and gave The Bolt her best reproachful stare.

"My Comrades and I have merely decided to work together so that we can better use our abilities to protect the school and the students." The Bolt insisted. "The alliance is in everyone's best interests."

"The Headmaster doesn't see it that way." McGonagall warned.

"And how do you see it, Inspector?" The Bolt asked calmly.

He didn't seem concerned about inciting Headmaster Dumbledore's rage and McGonagall couldn't decide if that made him incredibly brave or hopelessly stupid. McGonagall sighed and took a seat in her favorite armchair, suddenly feeling very tired.

"To be honest with you I'm more concerned about the appearance of The Muggler and Team Twosome." McGonagall admitted.

"That's what I came to talk to you about, Inspector." The Bolt took a step forward out of the shadows. "I had a recent run in with the three individuals in question, and I'm concerned that they may be working together. Do you have any information on them?"

"They just appeared on the scene recently, so I can't tell you much, but from what I do know I'm surprised that those three would team up." McGonagall frowned. "From what I've gathered, The Muggler has a very specific agenda, whereas Team Twosome is simply a pair of assholes pulling random and dangerous pranks for shits and giggles."

"I've read about The Muggler's goals of obtaining freedom for all House Elvess in her manifesto." The Bolt agreed.

McGonagall rolled her eyes. She'd read The Muggler's self-published manifesto, _The Lion and the House Slave_, as well. The Muggler had dumped a bagful of the thick books into the great hall during the middle of dinner about a week ago. It had been one of the earliest sightings of the would-be freedom fighter and, even though they had attempted to gather up all of the books as evidence, several copies had apparently been hidden by members of the student body and were now being distributed around the school. McGonagall had read one of the confiscated copies of the manifesto out of curiosity and had found it to be so full of bleeding heart drivel that she had initially dismissed The Muggler as being unlikely to pose any sort of threat. She had been wrong.

Since then, The Muggler had perpetrated several assaults where she had flung piles of garbage at citizens of Hogsmeade, who were known to own House Elves. More alarmingly, she had recently committed a home invasion where she had dragged a helpless man from his bed and forced him to free all of his House Elves. The man had thankfully been left uninjured but the poor House Elves had been traumatized by the experience, and one had even attempted to commit suicide.

While the extent to which The Muggler was willing to go in order to achieve her goals was troubling, McGonagall was more concerned about the antics of Team Twosome. At least there was a rhyme and reason to The Muggler's actions, but Team Twosome seemed to represent chaos itself. They were completely unpredictable and their schemes served no purpose, other than to give amusement to themselves. One day they would mix a love potion into the school drinking water, another day they would leave a pile of dead fish in Professor Snape's bed, and then the next day they would let an angry bandersnatch loose in the school hallways. There was no telling what they would do next.

"I'm surprised at the rate at which new people with mysterious powers have been appearing around the school." The Bolt's gravelly voice cut through her musings. "Has the Ministry been able to learn anything from Mr. Manimal as to what could be causing these strange phenomena?"

McGonagall hesitated for a second. They had locked Mr. Manimal in the school dungeon immediately after his capture with the intention of turning the monster over to the Ministry of Magic. The Headmaster had, however, quickly changed his mind. The current location and condition of Mr. Manimal was supposed to be a closely guarded secret. Did she dare disobey her orders even further by sharing this information with The Bolt?

"You'd better come with me." McGonagall stood swiftly from her chair. _What the hell._ After all, she'd come this far already. There was no turning back now.

* * *

Professor McGonagall led The Bolt through the school hallways to a hidden staircase, which was cleverly concealed behind a boring painting of a can of soup in a hallway full of storage closets.

McGonagall had been given the secret password and when she recited it, the painting swung open to reveal the winding staircase that led into the bowels of Hogwarts. Enchanted torches lined the walls of the passageway, and McGonagall and The Bolt descended the staircase as it wound like a corkscrew deeper and deeper, until they were even further underground than the potions laboratory.

The stairs finally ended at a long stone passageway, which was lined with heavy iron doors. Professor McGonagall had learned that this area had been used thousands of years ago as a jail during the castle's darker, early history. More recently the old prison cells had been entirely forgotten and the Headmaster had apparently been using the rooms to store his personal wine collection. All of the cells were now stuffed full of barrels and racks of bottles, with the exception of one. This cell had recently been hastily emptied to make room for its current resident.

"This is where we've been confining Mr. Manimal since you and your comrades captured him." Professor McGonagall explained as they walked down the corridor.

"Why haven't you turned him over to the Ministry?" The Bolt asked. "Isn't it risky keeping him at the school? What if he manages to escape?"

"Escape is unlikely. These doors are solid iron and have been enchanted to prevent anyone from getting out or from anyone getting in, for that matter."

The Headmaster had been very serious about protecting his wine collection and as far as McGonagall could tell it would be impossible to open any one of these doors without the keys, which were always kept on the Headmaster's person at all times. "We've kept him at the school in order to try and determine what turned him into Mr. Manimal in the first place." McGonagall explained as she came to a stop in front of the last door.

"But with their resources, wouldn't the Ministry be in a better position to find out where this monster came from?" The Bolt asked.

McGonagall pursed her lips and said nothing. Instead she reached up and slid back a piece of iron on the front of the cell door to reveal a narrow window into the room. She peered through and observed that their prisoner was currently taking a nap.

She stepped back and motioned for The Bolt to step up to the window and look inside. The Bolt looked a little confused, but stepped up to the window and peered inside of the cell. There was a pause and then The Bolt stepped back and slid the sheet of metal back into place. He turned to face McGonagall again but was silent for several moments, apparently speechless.

"That is the school groundskeeper." He finally said. The Bolt's voice was carefully composed, but Professor McGonagall had no doubt that he was as shocked by this revelation as she had been.

"Yes, the true identity of Mr. Manimal is Rubeus Hagrid."

* * *

"According to what we've been able to observe he is perfectly normal during the day." McGonagall explained, as she conjured herself up some tea.

She and The Bolt had returned to her room in order to continue their conversation. The Bolt stood with his back to her, facing out the window and apparently deep in thought, but McGonagall had no doubt that he was absorbing everything that she was saying.

"At precisely midnight, every night without fail, Hagrid will suddenly change into that hairy abomination. During this time he seems to lose all of his faculties of reason and is ruled purely by instinct. Then, at sunrise the next morning, he returns to normal and is left with little to no memory of his exploits as Mr. Manimal. Actually, Hagrid seemed just as surprised to learn that he was Mr. Manimal as we were. That's why the Headmaster has been keeping this all a secret. It's his hope that we'll be able to determine the cause of Hagrid's transformation and find a way to help him without his reputation being damaged or his life ruined by news of this getting out."

McGonagall took a swig of her chamomile tea, hoping that it would help to relax her.

"So far we haven't had much success, though. At first I thought that this might be an unusual case of the werewolf curse, but we have found no evidence of any kind of curse, nor does there appear to be any evidence of the work of a potion. The cause does appear to be magical in nature, but that is all that we have been able to determine. Quite frankly, we're stumped." McGonagall sighed. "At least it seems that no one has noticed that Hagrid's missing yet, so it doesn't appear that we need to worry about any weird rumors getting around the school."

"This is very troubling news." The Bolt suddenly spoke up. "I suspect that the cause of Hagrid's affliction is the same thing that has caused myself and the other members of The League of Comrades to gain super powers."

"I imagine the same is true of The Muggler and Team Twosome." McGonagall agreed.

"This is the first instance that I've observed where the gaining of super powers has affected a person's mental faculties." The Bolt continued.

McGonagall glanced at The Bolt's outlandish costume and raised an eyebrow skeptically. He sounded genuinely concerned, though, so she decided to hold her tongue.

"You've been of great help Inspector. I'll let you know if I'm able to discover anything." The Bolt said stiffly as he threw open the window.

"Hey wait!" McGonagall raised a hand to stop him, but The Bolt was out the window and gone before she had finished her sentence.

"Urgh. You're welcome I guess." McGonagall muttered and returned to her tea.

* * *

Harry returned to his lair immediately after his conversation with Inspector McGonagall, turning the new information he had gained over and over in his head. He was still in pain from the injuries he had sustained during his confrontation with The Muggler and Team Twosome, but he ignored this as he paced through his lair, deep in thought.

Hagrid was Mr. Manimal? Harry could scarcely believe it. Whatever influence had bestowed him with his awesome new power had transformed his friend into some kind of monster that was unable to control his own actions.

Were The Muggler and Team Twosome also actually just victims of this very same force? Were they, too, being influenced in some way? Was there more behind their sudden criminal activity then just a social agenda or apparent assholeness? And what of the Silver Viper?

Harry sighed and rubbed his temples. He hadn't mentioned the Silver Viper during his conversation with Inspector McGonagall and he was starting to feel perhaps he had been wrong to do so. The good Inspector didn't appear to be aware of the existence of the handsome thief, and perhaps he ought to have shared what information he had with her?

Not that he had much knowledge to share, Harry reasoned with himself. He had only seen the Silver Viper that one night and he knew little about him. Perhaps that kirin had been all that the Silver Viper was after and now that the job was done they wouldn't be seeing any more of the elusive young man. Harry couldn't decide if that thought made him happy or troubled.

Harry continued to brood alone for some time but inspiration refused to strike. He decided to change back into his civilian clothes and go for a walk, in the hopes of clearing his head.

Harry wandered around the school grounds aimlessly for a while and then finally popped into the library, more in an effort to find some quiet than from any real hope that the books contained within would be able to provide him with any clues.

Harry strolled through the rows of shelves till he reached the history section. Harry had just pulled down a book on famous curses and was starting to browse through it when someone cleared their throat.

"Yeah, don't bother saying hi or anything, old buddy." An irate voice broke through Harry's reverie.

Harry looked up and was surprised to see Ron standing a few feet away. Harry had walked straight past him and hadn't noticed that he was there.

"Oh! Hey, Ron. Sorry, I was lost in thought."

"Whatever." Ron crossed his arms over his chest, clearly offended. "Have you seen Hermione?

"No, sorry. I haven't seen her since breakfast." Harry answered.

"I've been looking for her all day." Ron muttered. "She's been real busy lately, and hasn't had any time to hang out. Not unlike someone else I know." Harry winced, knowing that this was directed at him.

"Sorry Ron." Harry tried to smooth things over. "It's not that I don't want to hang out, I've just had a lot going on lately."

"Yeah, well you seem to have time to hang out with Neville." Ron snapped.

"I've been helping Neville out with his defense against the dark arts homework." Harry said hastily. "You know me. Always trying to help." Harry smiled but Ron just scowled back.

"Yeah, whatever. If you see Hermoine, let her know that I'm looking for her." Ron said grumpily before stalking off.

"What's this? Trouble in paradise?" An arrogant voice drawled from behind him. Harry turned around and glared at the figure that had just come around the corner of the bookshelf.

"Bugger off, Malfoy." Harry snapped, not in the mood to deal with the Slytherin.

"Oh, did I hit a nerve?" Malfoy smirked.

"What are you even doing here anyway? I thought you just paid the smart students in Slytherin to do your homework for you." Harry shot back.

"None of your business." Malfoy frowned.

"Well then maybe you should try butting out of other people's business." Harry muttered and pushed past Malfoy before he could reply.

It was infuriating how Malfoy always seemed to know just what to say to get under his skin but Harry didn't have time to argue with him. Instead he headed back to his lair to get changed back into his costume. It was almost time to start his patrol.

* * *

**Author's aside:**

Tomato Face: Mr. Manimal was Hagrid? Spoiler alert!

Blonde One: That's right! And it isn't a spoiler when it comes at the end.

Tomato Face: Well, not all of us can time travel, so we have to make do with what we have – baseless accusations.

Blonde One: Not sure that makes sense.

Tomato Face: That it doesn't. I don't know if you intended the heroes to be a friendship machine, but I'm totally looking forward to the internal strife and politics of squabbling now that they're boxed into an agreement.

Blonde One: I'm looking forward to more romance!

Tomato Face: So am I, but for different reasons. You know what, I think I'll even heat things up a bit for you. Help it along, if you will.

Blonde One: Umm…I don't know if I want your version of help.

Tomato Face: No, it's cool. We gotta advance the coupling. I'm going to do some role-reversal here and not play a card in order to get things a-rolling.

Blonde One: Go for it?

Tomato Face: Oh, yes. I will. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Can Tomato Face write romance without spontaneously combusting? Will Blonde One be able to live with herself if the results are disastrous? Stay tuned to find out!


End file.
